


Rainy Day Delights

by amyfortuna



Series: Season of Kink 2017 [2]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Age Difference, Cunnilingus, F/F, Fourth Age, Gondor, Love Confessions, Polyamory, Rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 06:25:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11248164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/pseuds/amyfortuna
Summary: Arwen and Ioreth worship each other.





	Rainy Day Delights

**Author's Note:**

> Fulfils my Season of Kink square for 'Age Kink.'

The Queen of Gondor, new to her realm and to ruling, spent many of her days wandering about the city, talking to her new subjects. At first there were frowns from her household, worries that she would be in danger with no escort, but as time passed, the King smiled, and no harm befell her, all became accustomed to the Queen's habits. The marriage between the King and Queen was unlike most marriages the Gondorians knew, for the King never gainsaid her, forbade anything to her, or attempted to rule over her, but treated her as entirely his equal in all things. 

One of her favourite places to go, particularly on rainy days, was the Houses of Healing, where she would sit for hours with wounded soldiers, speaking quietly or reading to them. But she loved the company of the healers there just as much, and none more than Ioreth, old and grey but entirely dedicated to her work. Ioreth would often come and sit by her, chatting merrily, and together they'd watch the rain fall onto the herb garden just outside the windows. 

When the sun went down, Arwen departed, and it was as though she took all the light with her. Ioreth stood still and silent, her hands clasped over her heart, watching her go, and more than one of the patients and healers there could read her face, her devotion visible for all to see. 

One day when Arwen came to the Houses, Ioreth was not there. The Queen looked about for her, eyes wide, and when she found her not, went to the Warden of the Houses to ask her whereabouts. "Ioreth is weary this day, my lady, and has stayed home," the Warden said to her, pointing down the hill to a small cluster of white stone houses. "She is in the third house down, if you wish to go to her. I am sure she would be most glad to see you." 

Arwen smiled at him, a faint look of worry on her face, and strode away down the hill through the soft misty rain. As she knocked on Ioreth's door, worn and wooden, painted dark blue, the mist in her hair was as shining jewels, and her face shone with an inner radiance, unquenchable, undeniable. 

"Oh! My lady!" Ioreth said, opening the door, her hand going to her heart. She was wearing a simple white garment that wrapped around her, and her grey hair was loose about her shoulders, rather than in her customary healers' bun. "I did not expect to see you." She paused for a moment, just looking at her. "Come in, if you will, out of the rain." 

Arwen ducked her head to get through the low doorway, and entered the house, looking about. She removed her shoes and set them next to the door. The place was tiny, but cozy and comfortable, with colourful rugs strewn over the dark wooden floors, bright hangings on the walls, and small knick-knacks scattered about. The room was both kitchen and living space, and a low white bed could be seen through the door on the other side of the small room. "I wanted to be sure you were well," Arwen said, her voice pitched low and soft, her hand going out to cover Ioreth's. 

"Just not as young as I used to be," Ioreth said. "A day or two of rest, and I'll be right again." She gave Arwen a too-bright smile, and drew back, stepping toward the kitchen area. "Sit down, my lady. Would you like some tea? I was preparing myself a cup." The kettle on the hearth was just beginning to sing. 

"I would," Arwen said, and watched as Ioreth bustled about, much as she did in the Houses of Healing, chattering almost to herself as she prepared the tea for both of them. Arwen sat in silence, simply watching the way she moved, economical and careful but graceful, and the lines of her wrinkled face, animated in conversation, so expressive compared to Arwen's own people. 

In a very short space of time, Ioreth handed Arwen a clay mug from which the warm scent of spices and honey was rising, and sank down into her own comfortable chair, drawing a blanket over herself. They both sipped the tea in silence for a few minutes, and Arwen closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of it sink all the way down into her body. It was as though the world itself became that little room, and the sound of the rain on the roof outside the only reminder that anything else existed. 

Arwen was brought back to herself by a small clink as Ioreth set her empty mug aside. She looked down at her own, realising that it was empty too, and placed it carefully on the table between their two chairs, turning to face Ioreth, who was looking at her with a gaze that mingled adoration and devotion. It was a familiar look, and Arwen smiled to see it. 

"Do you laugh at me, my lady?" Ioreth said, unable to repress her own smile. 

"More at myself," Arwen answered, casting her eyes downward. "What have I ever done that you should look at me so?"

Ioreth sat up, casting the blanket that covered her aside, and took Arwen's hands in her own. "Look at you! What have you ever done but be wise, noble, generous, kind, and fair?" Ioreth's breath caught, but she hurried on. "Yes, I said fair, for it is so, and I have never known anyone of any race to be more beautiful, nor would I think it possible. You, my lady, with your thousands of years, and your dark hair, on which there is no shadow of frost, your clear skin, unmarred by wrinkle or scar, your bright eyes in which all the stars shine like the sky on a cloudless night? You, what have you done but snatch my very heart out of my breast so that I shall never behold beauty like unto yours again, not were all my days filled with the world's fairest beings parading down Gondor's streets? You, who are wedded in ways I cannot hope for, who must love to depths I cannot dream, you who will lighten my heart with your very presence until my dying breath, if you will permit." Ioreth's words stumbled to a dizzying halt, and she gasped breathlessly, looking up at Arwen with stricken eyes. "Please believe me, I did not mean to say all that," she whispered, agonised. 

Arwen leaned forward, reaching out a hand to Ioreth's face. She could hardly touch her from her chair, so she slid down onto her knees before Ioreth, gazing up at her for the space of several heartbeats before she could speak, one hand tenderly against her wrinkled cheek. "It is rather you I would honour," she murmured. "You, with your soft hair of silver-grey like spider-silk, with all your years written on your skin, and all your days filled to the brim with skill and devotion. I have been alive for thousands of years, maybe, but you have lived every one of your days, and brought healing to so many." She took a deep breath, bringing Ioreth's hands to her lips, kissing them. "It is true that I am wedded, and that I do love, but my love is not restricted, it is not bound to one only. There is nothing that divides quite so easily as a heart, when it has great souls like you to find comfort and joy in." She smiled up at Ioreth, and drew her face down. Just before their lips met, she whispered, "I love you. I will love you for all my days. You will always be in my heart." 

Then Arwen kissed Ioreth, soft and light at first, then deeper and stronger as Ioreth's arms came around her. For a long moment they clung together, laughing helplessly in each others' arms. 

Then as if by common consent, Arwen stood, pulling Ioreth up with her, and they embraced again, kissing tenderly. "I was weary this morning," Ioreth said once the kiss broke. "But by my heart, lady mine, you have given me new life!" 

Arwen laughed, and swept Ioreth into her arms, carrying the smaller woman into the bedroom, and laying her down gently on the white bed. "We should nevertheless not wear you out _too_ much," she said, laughing and settling down beside her, belying her words by pressing kisses to the soft skin of Ioreth's neck, just underneath her ear. "Such lovely skin," she whispered, "rose-petal soft, with fine creases and wrinkles, and so sensitive!" Ioreth squirmed underneath her, and in her laughter there was a note of arousal, warm and glowing. Arwen's hands slid up under the hem of Ioreth's wrapper, tickling and teasing the skin of her inner thighs, provoking gasps and moans from Ioreth. 

"Will you take your dress off, my lady?" Ioreth asked after a moment, catching her breath, and sat up to remove her own garment. Arwen gracefully stood, and as gracefully flung off the simple blue dress she wore, laying it over a chair. Her undergarments followed, silken and luxurious. 

Ioreth wore only the wrapper, and it was easily removed. After a moment, they both settled down on the bed again, and Arwen drew Ioreth into her arms, sliding her hand down Ioreth's body, caressing the soft swell of her stomach and carding through the coarse iron-grey hairs of her mound. Ioreth, meanwhile, passed a careful, tentative hand over Arwen's breasts, almost as though she hardly dared believe that she could touch her. 

Bending down, Arwen kissed her again, and Ioreth's arms twined around her. Arwen took the opportunity to slide her fingers between Ioreth's soft folds, finding her clit and letting one finger dance delicately over it, again and again, swallowing Ioreth's moans. 

Ioreth was trembling by the time Arwen drew back, and whimpered at the loss of her hand. Arwen smiled down at her. "Let me taste you," she said softly, and Ioreth nodded. One of her hands trailed down Arwen's body as Arwen kissed her way from Ioreth's nipples to her navel, then slid her tongue against Ioreth's clit, soft and slow, gently encouraging her to spread her legs so that she could settle between them. 

So aroused that she could hardly bear it, Ioreth was sure she was going to tumble over the edge of ecstasy in no time at all, but Arwen was skilled, and drew out the pleasure, taking long slow licks, pausing now and again to let Ioreth come back from the brink. She pressed kisses to her inner thighs, the flesh there soft and dark, the muscle underneath strong from years of work, and kisses to the soft curve of her stomach, the skin that was adorned with silvery marks. 

At last, with a mischievous glance upward, Arwen took pity on her, and bent her head to her task, not letting up until Ioreth was writhing against her, ecstasy crashing over her in wave after wave. Ioreth sank back to the bed, incoherent, speechless, helpless, and Arwen raised her head, smiling. 

Above them, she could still hear the rain on the roof. She settled down next to Ioreth, drawing her close. The day was yet young.


End file.
